Chapter 2: Incarnate & Impalpable
by Fictitious Malicious
Summary: Waking from strange dreams he doesn't understand, the pale-faced man looks in the mirror with no idea who he is or why he's being kept prisoner. Predators come to call out Earth's best, and Hellboy is unavailable so he is made the new sacrificial lamb.
1. Chapter 2a- Incarnate

a/n: This is fanfiction about crossover between the Predators and Hellboy, based on the 2nd movie, The Golden Army. Mainly because I'm disturbingly obsessed with Nuada. (Hey, who isn't, right?) But like, you can relax because I'm not going to "turn out" all your favorite characters. This isn't technically about Nuada; in fact some of the characters you know and love are merely mentioned in passing. I like taking a basic concept and infusing it with my own creations. You'll understand more when you read. Anyway, I don't own anything that has to do with the Predators, Hellboy, the BPRD, nor do I want to piss of Mike Mingola even though he's such a terrible artist that it makes me furious that he's famous and I'm not. /=(

But I digress. Enjoy the read.

**Chapter 2a: Incarnate**

I don't remember much about my life before this. The fuzzy images that haunt my dreams do nothing but confuse me. I can use just about any weapon I pick up, and lay down a score of heavily armed men without breaking a sweat, but I don't recall learning how to fight.

I don't know why I look different from other men. Their skin is varying shades of peaches, caramels and browns, their hair is gold, orange, brown or black, and their eyes come in a strange assortment of blues, greens and mahogany. My hair is stark white, as is my skin, and my eyes are a haunting black and red. Most people act civil but they are terribly frightened of me, which is probably why they keep me locked up in this small, dark metal room.

I don't really know for certain who "they" are, per se. I'm not really allowed to roam the premises, but I have glanced into several offices and seen an awful lot of doctors lurking about, along with soldiers dressed all in black with patches that say, "BPRD".

Every day, they put me in a combat room to study my fighting skills. Then, I go back to my room to eat the well-balanced meals they cook for me. They give me shots several times a day and several times a week, they take blood. I get a while to relax, and then Margaret comes for my lessons. She's an older woman with soft, blue eyes and long orange hair streaked with gray. Margaret is the only one who isn't afraid of me, and it makes me feel better. She's been teaching me for as long as I can remember, ever since I woke up in that tank.

She teaches me about all sorts of things, but mostly the history of Man. I learn about their amazing accomplishments, America in particular, how they've helped the planet and many species of animals from extinction, and that I should always love and respect them. She tells me I live in the greatest country in the world and that the greatest heroes have fought and died for it to remain free. When she says it, it all makes sense; but when I'm lying in bed at night in the darkness with nothing but the humming of the machines to keep me company, somehow, it all seems wrong.

I've talked to her about some of my doubts, and even some of the dreams. "Oh, Adam!" She chuckles, touching my arm. "Dreams don't mean anything, they're just random brain synapses going off. There's nothing to worry about. Now let's go over the U.S. Constitution one more time..."

The one thing I keep to myself is the unbearable feeling of loneliness. I'm not sure why, but it feels as though I'm missing something; as if when I woke up for the first time, there was a piece absent from my soul. My dreams show me glimpses of a woman that looks very much like me, reaching out to me in despair. I know her, and I love her. There, my name isn't Adam; the woman calls me Nuada. I long to be beside her, wherever she is, and when I awake, tears streak down my face. I struggle to hold onto her mental image for as long as I can, but once breakfast comes, the majority of it fades.

I've asked Margaret and a few of the other men in suits who seem to make decisions for a pad and pencil, so that I may record these dreams and attempt to draw the woman's face. They always somehow convince me that it's a silly idea, and get me to dismiss it. I have the same dream again, only I'm under water and the woman is looking at me through glass. "Nuada, I cannot feel you", she cries, reaching to me. "Where have you gone?"

I want to talk to her, but I have all these tubes in my nose and mouth, like I did when I awoke in the tank. "I'm here. You need only look." I hear myself think, not speak. She puts her small, delicate hands on the glass, and then brings her face nearer to take a better look. She suddenly recoils with a loud gasp, gripping her chest. It's then that I realize she's wearing a beautiful silk dress; something you'd find in the Renaissance era. I'm not sure why that matters, but to me it seems poignant. "What is it? What do you see?" My own voice resounds in my head.

Her eyes, strange and alien as mine, finally focus on me. "Oh, there you are. They… they gave you a second chance." She forces a smile, but her immeasurable sadness is more than apparent. "Maybe things can be better for you this time."

"What? Who are you?" I scrap desperately at the glass, thinking that maybe if I can break through it and get to her, all this will make sense.

"I am your sister, Nuala." She continues to smile, though her tears fall freely down her soft, pale face. I'm stunned into a still, hallowing silence. "Please, please, make peace with the Humans." She begs, her body quivering from pent up emotion. "But do not forget me, or our Father, King Balor, for we shall be with you always, watching over you." She covers her mouth and steps further and further away from the glass.

I reach out for her, screaming and pounding on the glass, "No, come back! My sister, wait!" But her image fades and all is reduced to dizzying black swirls. I sit bolt upright in bed with a loud, hoarse cry, soaked in sweat and tears. In another moment, I clamber to the toilet to void whatever's left in my stomach. I'm not sure what time it is, but when I've finally regained my composure, I strain to listen for any bustling from outside the doors, but all I hear is that constant, low humming. That means everyone else is asleep, and that my door is locked. They say it's for my own safety, that there are others in this compound that are not as kind and peaceful as men, and they might hurt me, but I fight well, and I don't fear anyone. And right now, I want my damned pad and pencil before I forget my sister's face.

Jiggling the lock proves to be as ineffective as trying to pry it open using brute strength. I've seen what the door looks like from the other side: it's large and circular with this winding mechanism that resembles a bank vault. I know there's a specific sequence of numbers you need to open it as well, which doesn't help my cause. A feeling of hopelessness comes over me. In frustration, I pound on the door and cry out into the darkness for no reason at all. "My sister, Nuala! You said you'd watch over me- well here I am, trapped in this dark little box! If there's anything you can do to help me, then please do so! Send me a sign!" I let out a sob, slumping down with my back against the door, knees to my chest. I hear Margaret's words in my head, telling me how silly I'm being, and suddenly, I feel silly.

There are several long minutes of nothing but the darkness and that infernal humming, and I feel downright stupid. I fall back asleep in that position and dream of nothing at all. I'm awoken the next morning when one of the doctors opens the door to hand me my breakfast. I've met him a few times, he told me a while back to call him Doctor Jake. He's one of the few doctors here with a personality. He seems concerned that I was out of bed, and insists on helping me back into it. I tell him I feel ill and that I'm not hungry, so he gives me a basic checkup and says that if I've been throwing up, I should drink so I don't become dehydrated. He says he'll leave the food here in case I feel better. He then takes out a walkie-talkie and tells someone named General Bernard to cancel my fight training for today. A deep, masculine voice radios back with a hundred questions and twice as many protests. Doctor Jake calmly tells him I'm not well and that he recommends bed rest for today. With a reluctant groan, the man agrees and orders him to check up on me over the course of the day in case I'm up for it later.

Doctor Jake takes out a tourniquet and syringe to take more of my blood. I watch with mild interest. "I want a pad and pencil, please." I remark when the doctor's done.

He gives me the oddest look. "Why, Adam?"

"I… want to write, and try to draw, maybe. I keep asking but they won't let me. I don't understand why. Could you get them for me?"

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, as if I'd just asked him to remove his pants. "I… well, I'm not sure if… I need to ask if that's… allowed."

"Allowed?" I squint at him. "What am I, a prisoner here?"

He's quick to respond, putting both his hands up in defense. "No, no, of course not! It's just that…"

"Please, Doctor Jake." I sulk, piteous and wide-eyed. "All I do is eat, fight and listen to lectures. I have no way of expressing myself. I feel as if all this inside me is going to kill me if I don't get it out." He gives me a sad, helpless face and I can tell I'm getting to him, so I don't let up. "Everyone here is so scared of me because I look different. Like I'm going to use the pencil to stab them in the eye or something. I just want to write. Please; you're not scared of me like everybody else, are you?"

He looks me in the eyes and after a moment, shakes his head. "No, Adam. I'm not."

"So why is it such a bad thing?"

He watches me for a moment longer, his brows creasing with purpose, his tone now a harsh whisper. "I'll see what I can do, but if anyone finds it here, you tell them you stole it, I don't care what you tell them, but it cannot come back to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, thank you!" I'm so overjoyed that I actually throw my arms around him. He goes stiff for a moment, and then hugs me back with a chuckle.

"Alright, alright, calm down. Try to eat something, okay?" He pulls me at arm's length and I see on him such a genuine, affectionate smile that for a brief moment, I forget how lonely I am. He gets up, clears his throat and jots a few notes down on his clipboard with a ballpoint pen, then makes a motion like he's putting it back in his chest pocket, but it misses and falls onto the bed. My eyes follow it but I don't make a move to pick it up yet. He gives me a meaningful look. "You take it easy, maybe have some of the eggs and orange juice, it should settle your stomach. I'll be in later to check up on you." He gives me a wink and a smile, turns and leaves the room.

I casually fix the blankets and snatch the pen up, hiding it under my pillow. My spirits are lifted so much that I eat some of the eggs and crackers. It does make my stomach feel better, just like Doctor Jake said it would. I lay back and smile to myself, glad to finally have a pen. Now if only I can remember what I needed it for…?

I must've fallen asleep, because two men arguing wake me up a while later. It all sounds distant and garbled, until I get up out of bed and press my hands against the door. Then suddenly, I can hear them as though I were standing next to them. "I don't care if you think he's not ready, we don't have much of a choice!" That voice sounds like the deep, seedy tone of the man that was on the other end of the walkie talkie earlier.

"Aren't there any others you can call on? Does it have to be him?" That sounds like Doctor Jake.

"There ain't anyone else. Project Forty-Two Green isn't complete, and the mechas aren't online yet. Hellboy and the others are in Afghanistan; the situation's too sensitive to pull them out now. I've been watching Adam in combat training for months. He's phenomenal; and he may be the only one left in this hemisphere who might be able to stand a chance against those things."

"I understand that, but he's never been outside this compound, he's never even seen the sun! You can't expect him to just waltz out into civilization, take them down and come back to us."

"I know, which is why you're gonna put the RFID chip in him."

I hear Doctor Jake gasp. "You can't be serious! General, he's a person, not a dog."

"He's not a person, he's a clone, and he's our property. We have a right to keep track of him." A clone? What on Earth is that? I instinctively look down at my own hands, chalky white and severely calloused from all the combat practice. I get this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach and I wish there were somewhere I could hide where these men would never find me. If they let me go, I swear, I'd rather die than come back.

"Please, think about what this will do to him…psychologically…let alone physically, all those germs? His immune system isn't up to par yet. I could give you a hundred thousand reasons why this is a bad idea. Please, consider sending Red Ten instead?"

"Red Ten is still unresponsive after his last suicide attempt. Margaret thinks he's gone catatonic. Look, Jacob, it's either we send Adam, or the Predators continue their open season on us. You've got twenty-four hours to prep him, whatever it takes, I don't care; but he needs to be field ready as soon as possible. Do I make myself clear?"

There's a long, uneasy pause between them. Doctor Jake finally speaks, low and solemn. "Loud and clear, General."

"Good." Is all he says, and I hear the melodic clackity-clack of his boots marching down the hall.

Doctor Jake lets out a hefty sigh. "Fuck **me**."

I dart back with a shaky gasp, and I know he's on his way to my door. He's going to tag and track me, and then he's going to send me to die for them. I don't remember being so frightened in all my life. I hear Doctor Jake's footfalls stop at the door. He pauses a few moments, then opens it up. I'm standing there facing him, my whole body shuddering, arms wrapped around myself. He takes one look at me and knows I heard something I wasn't supposed to.

"Adam, I…"

"What's a clone?" I interrupt him. "_What the hell am I_?"

He looks surprised. "You heard that? We were all the way down the…"

"**ANSWER ME!**" I yell, and he flinches.

"Oh, Adam, you weren't meant to hear that. I'm so sorry."

I begin crying, despite my best efforts to contain myself. "Doctor Jake, please!" My voice cracks from stress. "Tell me what I am!"

He sighs, slumping his shoulders. "Come take a walk with me." He holds out an arm, motioning for me to follow. After a moment of contemplation, I do. He puts the arm around me and walks me down the brightly lit hallway to a door I've never been to before. He presses a button on the wall and there's a ding. The door opens to reveal an enclosed room big enough for maybe five people to stand comfortably in. My worried gaze meets his. "Don't worry, it's just an elevator. We're going outside, Adam. I want to show you the sun."

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2b- Impalpable

a/n: Uploading works onto this site took me hours. HOURS. FF, your uploading tool is infuriating and horrifically inferior.

**Two Years Later…**

"It's time for your vitamins, Adam." Darcy slips in through the open door to slide a small paper cup onto my worktable as I'm cleaning my magnum. "Oh, and you're scheduled for a briefing on your new assignment at Oh-nine-hundred hours."

"Don't be fooled, Darcy." I look up at her with a grin, snatching a nearby rag to wipe the gun oil off my hands. "They just want to bust my chops about blowing up that gasoline truck the other day."

"Haha! Well, you're supposed to be undercover, silly!" She stands there, hands behind her back, wagging herself side to side. She's had a thing for me since I was transferred to the New England division. She's too shy to say it, but I can sense it off of her. In fact, three other females that work here have crushes on me too, and I really can't say why. I look at my pasty white reflection in the mirror and it baffles me.

"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway, those Shuggoths are dead and none of their slimy residue was left for civilians to discover later. It all worked out."

"Hey, if it were up to me, I'd give you a medal; but I just make the coffee, deliver messages and delve out pills. You know the stuffed shirts and their protocols."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, sadly, I do." She holds up a finger. "Oh, almost forgot. After the briefing, you have to go down to get more immunity shots. Apparently, your last series of blood test came back with some abnormally low levels of…. something or other."

"Augh, **you know**?" I throw down the rag. "I keep telling them, maybe if my body weren't so reliant on those shots, my immune system would develop naturally. I'm beginning to think they want to keep me coming back."

"I don't know, Adam, but you know what they say, the doctors know best. That's why they're doctors and we're not."

"No," I sigh, staring past her, through the door. "We're just grunts, aren't we?"

"Maybe I am, but not you. Gosh, you're just about the best fighter I've ever seen. You'd probably whoop the shit out of Hellboy."

I quirk my head at her. "Who?" "Hellb—you don't know who Hellboy is? He's the Paranormal Bureau's most public agent. Well, he's technically just freelance now, but unofficially, still part of the Bureau. I can't believe you've never heard of him; he gets more media coverage than the president."

"They don't let me read papers or watch TV. When I'm out in the field, I've got scores of tag-along suits too far up my ass for me to escape and enjoy the fresh air. This Hellboy guy sounds interesting, maybe he and I could spar one day."

"You could ask." She shrugs, turns and hangs onto the door on her way out, looking back at me with sparkles in her big brown eyes. "Have a good day."

"You too." Without another glance, I go back to cleaning and reassembling my gun. A bit later that day, I'm sitting across from two overly-serious suits in mirror shades who nearly pinch a loaf in their pants when I mention that I want to meet Hellboy.

"Absolutely not." One of them finally composes himself to respond. "He's…"

"In Southeast Asia...on a mission." The other one finishes the first one's thought. As he says it, his pulse jumps.

"You know I can tell when people are lying, right?" I cross my arms across my chest, glaring calmly at them.

"That's irrelevant. The answer is no." He tosses a manila envelope onto the table that's standing between us. "This is your mission." He sneers; as if he were a higher life form and I were just some disobedient monkey flinging my poop against the walls. "Take a look at the file. There was a boat pulled into a Pier in Crabapple Cove last night. Nobody on board, but there were traces of blood and what was described as 'strange religious symbols' hanging all over below deck. Might be cult-related. We need you to check it out. You're taking the photography and theology crew."

"Oh _joy_." I lean against the armrest, resting my chin on my fist. "So why can't I meet Hellboy? Is he too good for me or something?"

The two of them look at each other, and then back at me. "Just do yourself a favor and forget you ever heard that name. This meeting is adjourned. Go get your shots."

"Oh, can I?" I stand up. "Like a good little doggie?" Then I point at them. "I don't need to go looking for pricks, there's a couple of really big ones right here." I don't give them a chance to respond, I just grab the envelope and walk out.

Doctor Gorbin isn't like Doctor Jake at all. He's cold, clinical and emotionally sterile. I've heard the other agents call him "Doctor Goblin" behind his back. I walk in, say hello, and in return, he holds up the rubber tube and tells me to take off my shirt. Doesn't ask me how I'm feeling, or how the field is treating me, no pleasantries; he's all business. After pressing the cold stethoscope against me for a while, he ties the tourniquet onto my arm as apathetically as he would tie his own shoelaces, or turn on a faucet. The needle piercing my arm is worse. I strain not to flinch or make a sound. One of the photography boys told me a story about how Doctor Gorbin was so rough with him that he started crying, begging him not to stick him with the needle. The doctor got so fed up that he literally threw the syringe at the guy like a dart from across the examining room, nearly hitting him in the face. From then on, I decided I'd be as cold and clinical as he is. So far, it's worked out.

"Have you been taking your vitamins?" He asks out of nowhere.

"Yes, religiously." I quirk a brow, meeting his icy blue stare for the first time since the exam began.

"Hrm." He grunts, turning his back on me to cap the vials. I watch him as he dabs a bit onto a little glass plate and slides it under a microscope.

"Why, are you getting abnormal readings?" After a few moments, he responds, gaze still fixed into the lens.

"Last few tests showed low T cell count, and low hemoglobin."

"What does that mean?" "Your immune system looks as though it were ravaged by AIDS, and you have the red blood cell count of an anemic with bleeding ulcers. Frankly, how you've survived this long is a scientific anomaly." I still don't understand what he means, but I nod my head in agreement to keep from looking like an idiot.

"I guess I'm just a stubborn son of a bitch then."

He glances up at me for a moment with a brief hint of humor in his eyes, and then goes back to viewing his blood samples. "Hrm." I watch him for a few more moments as he goes fingering through my medical reports. "Maybe it's something we should look into."

"What, me being stubborn?" I let out an incredulous chuckle.

"In a sense, yes. Whatever's prolonging your life could work for some of the others. The trick is isolating and extracting it." He gives me the creepiest look when he says those words, as if I was just a little lab mouse in a cage. I understood that; he wants to cut me open to see what makes me tick, and if it takes the last drop of my blood, he'll find a way to keep his other cloned monstrosities alive longer. From the small amount of physical contact I've had with him, I can sense that not only will he be devoid of remorse, but also that he might actually enjoy it. I swallow hard, telling myself that the others won't ever allow him to go through with it.

Apparently if you exclude Hellboy, I'm the most superb fighter this agency's got. They can't easily replace me. I continue to tell myself that all the way back to my room, to the docks with my crew, for the rest of the day and into the night.

The next morning, I awake to utter chaos; everybody's yelling, rushing to get somewhere. The Field Director, Mr. Yuzuki comes to get me at about a quarter to six in the morning. "What the hell is going on?" I'm sitting bolt upright in bed, glaring at him as he yanks the door open like a lunatic, still on his cell.

"Go get your shots, Adam, you're needed in the field."

"Now? What happened?"

"Those fucking hunters are back in town."

I leap out of bed and into my pants. "The aliens? Shit!"

"Go, Adam, go, go!" He rushes me out the door. I run barefoot down the hallway to see Doctor Gorbin; he's already there waiting for me in the sick bay with a syringe in his hand. I notice the eerie, fluorescent green liquid inside it.

"Doctor?" I gape wide-eyed at him from the doorway. "That's not my usual immunity shot, is it?"

"Roll up your sleeve." He motions for me to come in.

"Wait, what is that?" I back up as he steps towards me.

"It's something we've been keeping in cold storage; it might help you. Adam, come over here."

"Why is it green?" I flinch as he grabs a hold of my wrist with his free hand.

"I wouldn't give you something that would hurt you. Just roll up your sleeve." He looks me dead in the eyes. "Adam, please." I can sense through his touch that he knows, more or less what will happen to me. The green stuff is the blood they saved from those hunter creatures I'm about to fight. It will make me stronger, faster, and healthier. When he tested it on lab mice, it made them tear each other apart. I also sense that the doctor has administered this blood to himself in secret. With that in mind, I roll up my sleeve. It's not as if I'm being given a choice anyway. By the time I get back to my room, I can still feel it burning through my veins. I feel slightly out of breath and I'm sweating. I glance up at the mirror over the sink and I get this bizarre urge to bash my face into it.

"Hey, are you okay?" Mr. Yuzuki puts a hand on my shoulder and I have to fight with myself not to flip him over my shoulder and onto the floor. I merely shut my eyes tight and reign in my temper.

"Don't touch me." I huff through gritted teeth. He backs up a few paces, genuinely afraid.

"Uh, sorry. You look like hell, what happened?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." I lie. "Just nervous." I don't think he knows what Doctor Gorbin shot into me. I doubt anyone knows.

"It's okay, you're entitled. I'm sure I'd be nervous in your position, but you're the best fighter I've ever seen; you'll kick their asses halfway across the galaxy. C'mon, I'll help you get your supplies together."

"So… tell me what's been going on?" I'm hoping the conversation will distract me and help me get my emotions under control.

"A half dozen of them just took out an entire army base worth of fully trained reserve soldiers. Hundreds of men are dead, Adam, they didn't stand a chance."

"Where are they now?" "Still inside the base, as far as we know. We need to get a heavy-hitter in there before they take their trophies and go home. You're the only operative we have who's defeated them before, so we're sending you. But you won't be alone."

"Aw, c'mon, your photography and theology suits will only slow me down!"

"Not suits, you're getting your first official partner. We call him Red Eleven." I stare at him, squinting as I zip up my uniform.

I quirk a brow at him. "Any relation to Red Ten?"

"Ah, you know about that, huh?" He smiles, and it's insulting.

"I know about everything. The Reds are all clones of the one you call Hellboy. They have a tendency to destroy themselves."

"No use in denying it then. Yeah, the first ten were failures, but for different reasons. Red Eleven is our first success. He's…stubborn… like you. I think you two will hit it off."

"Does he know what he is?"

"No, and you're not going to tell him. I don't think you want to be responsible for his suicide."

We stare at each other meaningfully as I strap on my utility pack. I finally push the rage aside and draw breath to speak. "Doesn't it bother you that you're messing with life? That you treat us like property; like things and not people?"

"As far as I'm concerned, you *are* people. It doesn't matter if you grew in a tube or popped out of a uterus; you're still thinking, feeling, sentient beings. Sadly, not everyone shares my view on the matter. Now c'mon, finish up and meet us in the Grand Junction room for your instructions." He slaps me on the back and ducks out the door. As I grab the last of my equipment and head down the long, humming corridors, I get the most awful feeling in my chest that I can't fully explain. It's as if I were walking merrily off the side of a cliff- like a lemming.

The Grand Junction room is just a fancy way of saying, the big, circular room with the big, circular table that's the first room you see when you enter the complex. It's done up in gaudy mosaic tile and velvet tapestries depicting the Bureau's assorted, colorful agents fighting demons, aliens and monsters in different periods of time with all sorts of weaponry. It makes me sick to my stomach.

"Adam." Mr. Yuzuki motions to the tall, red-skinned creature standing next to him. The creature is so lanky; he's practically skeletal, with long red horns, a thick devil-like tail and eyes like fireballs. "This is Red Eleven."

The creature nods to me, holding out a hand with long, bony fingers and sharp, curved talons. "I'm Adam." I take his hand and we shake. His grip is powerful; I can feel his strength without him having to apply much of it on me. I try to force myself to make eye contact, but I look away without meaning to.

"Good to meet you." His voice sounds surprisingly… human; hardly what you'd expect to come out of something that menacing. "You've fought these things before?"

"Yes, they're tough, and excellent fighters. Don't underestimate them."

"Well, I'm pretty good myself." He grins showing beast-like fangs, popping the collar of his sleeveless flack jacket with his free hand.

"I'm glad for that. They have a weakness though. The last time, I noticed that they wouldn't come to each other's rescue. If you're beating the piss out of one, the others will just stand there and watch. Let us not be like that, alright?"

"Agreed." He once again shakes the hand he has yet to let go of.

"Almost forgot," Mr. Yuzuki hands me a long, thin metallic suitcase. "Remember that spear thing you got off the last batch you killed two years ago?" He goes to hand me the box and I break contact so I can take it from him. Red looks disappointed. He probably doesn't get much physical contact. I know how that feels, and I pity him. I open the box and see something that looks very much like the extending spear I'd taken off the last hunter I killed, nesting in a mat of peaked Styrofoam.

"Wait, this isn't the same spear I took from it, was it?" My memory may be faulty, but this doesn't quite look authentic.

"We reverse-engineered it and made a few of our own." He smiles proudly. "You two are going to take them for their first field test to work out the kinks." He hands Red his own box. "Yes, that means you get one too."

"Oh, wicked!" Those fiery eyes light up as he takes the box. He tears the thing out, dropping the box and Styrofoam onto the floor. "How does it work?" He holds it up to the light to admire it. Mr. Yuzuki and I give him the basic run-down. He's grasps it a bit slowly and it takes us a few minutes to pound some basic directions into his head.

All the stuffed suits around us look antsy, and it occurs to me that Red Eleven might be a lot smarter than he's letting on. That brief moment of skin-to-skin contact allowed me to sense it- he's stalling on purpose, and I can see why. He's scared; this is the first time he's being allowed to leave the base. He doesn't want to fight anyone, especially a bunch of bloodthirsty hunter alien things who have obviously called attention to themselves by attacking our military and are waiting patiently for the government to throw their best warriors at them in retaliation. We both see what's going on here but the suits don't get it. We're playing right into the aliens' trap, and even if we tried to tell them, they won't listen. I guess we just have to make like good dogs and sic 'em. Maybe if we make it back alive, they'll toss us a treat.

"Okay, guys. There will be a caravan right outside the base, so I need for you to return there so we can patch you up." He points at me. "And remember, Adam, you need your immunity shots three times a day so if you think you're going to run off after the fight, you won't have to worry about us finding you because Rhinopharyngitis will find you first."

"Rhino-fare-in-what is?" Red chuckles, squinting.

"Acute Viral Rhynopharyngitis; an upper respiratory infection, otherwise known as the common cold. The first time he left the base, he caught it. It turned into double Pneumonia in under thirty-six hours and nearly killed him."

Red looks wide-eyed at me, and I'm finally able to meet his blazing stare. "Wow, that sucks." I should be embarrassed, but all I feel is that unerring rage.

"Yes, it does suck. His health is very fragile, so I urge you to make sure he's back in our care as soon as possible, you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Red salutes like an idiot and I roll my eyes.

"Let's just get this over with." I growl and walk towards the exit. They transport us across state lines in something that looks alarmingly like a garbage truck. Inside, there are all these screens and computers and stuff neither Red nor I know anything about.

There are a handful of suits manning the stations while Mr. Yuzuki supervises. It makes me wonder who pays for all this stuff, and if they know about all the experimentation and cloning that goes on. If the army is involved, then so is the U.S. government. If the government is funding this, then I doubt they're as righteous and noble as Margaret taught me they were. And if that's a lie, most likely everything else is too. It also begs the question; do the agency's more public operatives know the organization they're so loyal to have been stealing and playing God with their genes? If they did, would they still be loyal? You know, if all us operatives were to get together and revolt, we could crush the BPRD in just a few short hours. They have to know that, which is why they've been trying so hard to keep us all from meeting. One of these days, I'll have to sneak out and pay Hellboy a visit. That would be very interesting.

"We're coming up to the base now!" The driver yells back to us. "Christ, there's a plume of smoke coming from inside… did they nuke it?"

"What the hell?" Mr. Yuzuki leaps up out of his seat and darts to the front of the truck. I hear him on the radio with somebody.

Red looks at me, his jaw hanging open. He looks terrified, and I pity him. "It's okay. We'll be okay." I put a comforting hand on his arm. "They wouldn't send us in if they were planning to nuke the place."

Mr. Yuzuki walks back where Red and I are sitting, hands on the side of the moving truck. "This is it, guys, suit up." The truck stops and the back of it opens up so we can get out. We can see the base now, and all the dust clearing from whatever they set off inside.

The National Guard is here, along with tons of tanks, SWAT teams, EMS, helicopters and heavily armed men surrounding the place. "Did they bomb it?" He asks.

"Yeah, but those things are cloaked. No way of knowing if we got them or not. You guys need to go in there and weed them out. The general assures me there will be snipers on all sides for when they make their presence known - but be careful, you hear?" He points at us to underscore. "Be prepared for anything."

I take a moment to look around, and the same bad feeling creeps back into my gut. Something isn't right. The base is a huge airfield peppered with bunkers and airplane hangars, sectioned off with ten-foot high fences and razor wire. I've fought these hunters before and if memory serves, their sheer athleticism would make those fences pretty much pointless. In light of this, I feel the need to point out the obvious. "If they're cloaked, how do we know they're even still in there?"

Yuzuki stops in his tracks and glares at me as though the thought had never crossed his mind. Red lets out a gasp, then looks out the back of the truck at the setting sun. "Adam,_ I don't want to do this anymore_."

"Too late for that." I stand up, drawing both my magnums and calmly walking out of the truck and into the street. Red comes out behind me wielding one of those spears.

"Do you really think they're out here waiting for us?"

"No doubt. Think about it; they're hunters, right? That means they'd never be where we'd want them to be. They'd want a birds-eye view of this place, to see exactly what they're up against."

I survey the surrounding area and spot at least a dozen telephone poles, SWAT vans, tanks and halogen lights they could be hunched on, watching us. I shut my eyes and listen to everything around us; the moving, the talking, the distorted buzzing of radios, and listen beyond it. I'm assaulted by a plethora of emotions, clashing, ebbing and flowing like waves on the ocean. I sense the tension, the anticipation, and the fear… just beyond it; right at the tip of my mind's reach is a fierce, turbulent hunger I'm not quite ready for. There are six of them; I feel them, they're all here. They know that Red and I have been sent for them and it's like waving a steak in front of a pack of starving dogs; their hunger depletes their patience and they can't help but snatch it up, even if it gives away their position. They don't care- they want blood right now.

One of them strikes; fires off something, I'm not sure what. I spin around just in time to see a pair of small, bladed disks flying towards the hand that Red is holding the spear in. Time slows, and I fire off a single round from both barrels. The bullets just barely hit their targets in time. The metal the disks are made from must be tougher than the lead of my bullets because all it does is alter their course, embedding the blades into the concrete beside Red rather than severing his hand at the wrist like they were meant to. I fire once more, aiming for the hunter who threw them. Instead, the monster leaps from its telephone pole perch and lands so hard on the roof of a van that the metal folds in on itself. The glass of the windshield buckles with it, spidering and bursting out of its metallic shell.

In that moment, all hell breaks loose. The first thing I notice is the people around the van gasping, screaming, scattering, and raising their weapons to shoot. It's already too late because the monster pushes off and leaps at the truck we're next to. Red dives to cover Mr. Yuzuki, so that they both end up back in the truck. Four more disks fly; two from the hunter soaring towards me, and two from my left. There's a subtle sound they make when the hunters shoot them off, and I can identify it now. I roll to the right and those disks imbed themselves into the ground where I'd been standing. Now everybody who has a gun is stupidly emptying their clips at nothing, making it more difficult for me to listen for the important things that will save my skin.

The roof of our truck is nearly crushed under the alien's massive weight. I roll to the side yet again, this time on instinct, and another disk grazes my arm, splattering the side of the truck with my blood. It came from the right this time, which leads me to believe our truck had been spotted from afar and strategically surrounded. The entire area is being showered with bullets, which prevents me from doing any bold moves against the creature. Right now, all I can do is roll around to avoid being tagged by any stray projectiles. Red's claws dig into the edge of the truck as though it were made of cardboard. He uses it to propel himself up onto the top of the roof and tackle the invisible creature. Bullets and disks are ripping through him, and his skin regenerates in a matter of moments. He falls on top of it, pinning it to the roof, tearing it to ribbons with each slash of those massive claws. Odd, fluorescent green goop is splattered everywhere as it cries out in the most frightening roar I've ever heard.

One of the soldiers screams out, "Hold your fire!" The hail of bullets comes to a sudden stop. Another one of those creatures, probably realizing their disks aren't doing much to impede him, leaps down onto the truck to physically rip Red off his bleeding friend. This one has been shot up pretty badly as well from all the random gunfire. This disproves my theory about them helping each other. Now that I have freedom of movement, and the truck has been crushed to about half the height it was before, I kick off the side of the car next to me and do a flip over the truck with both guns blaring. The monster going for Red catches two bullets and the one behind him who'd been hanging off the telephone pole shooting disks at me catches three. By the time both my feet land on the other side of the truck, one of the monsters is visible, and whatever cloak it had up is now sending sparks over its massive form. The people let out a collective gasp when they're able to finally see it.

Instead of retaliating, it pulls something out of a belt; some sort of syringe. That thing is jabbed hard into its hemorrhaging stomach, and the creature lets out the beginnings of what sounds like a wail of pain. One of the armed guys from in back of me doesn't waste a moment. A LAW missile gets set off and soars over my shoulder at it. The creature doesn't have the chance to prime for a jump, so instead it falls clumsily off it's telephone pole perch, syringe still sticking out of it's guts. The missile makes contact, decimating the pole where the monster had been only a moment too late. The site explodes, sending electric sparks shooting in every direction like fireworks. Live wires sever and whip all around the area. The beast hits the pavement face-first, and before it can get up, one of the spaghetti-like electrical wires slaps against it's back, sending a lethal current through it's body. It tenses corpse-stiff for a few seconds, then goes limp against the ground, it's clawed fists slowly uncoiling in death.

The alien whom Red's been slashing at collapses on top of the van, splayed wide open from chest to groin. The second falls off the truck and lands on the ground with an audible splat. His cloak is still up but the dripping blood gives his position away. That's all the soldiers need to shower the entire area with bullets. Before long, half the van is disintegrated. The monster, now leaking blood like crazy, leaps onto a nearby SWAT truck to escape. His cloak malfunctions and now all we see is green blood and sparks. Red doesn't waste any time waiting for the soldiers to finish it, or for it to escape. He leaps from his perch straight onto the truck in a single, mighty bound to grapple the wounded one. His impact hits with such force that they both tumble to the ground. While they're scrapping and clawing at each other, Red's entire body is engulfed in an eerie blue fire. The thing screeches, desperate to get out from under him, as it's being burnt alive.

I hear a slight whooshing sound, and I feel the force of air come towards me as one of them, still invisible goes for a blow at close range. I swerve to the side, and something impossibly sharp makes two tears in my vest. There's a small explosion coming from where Red is and I can't afford even a moment to steal a glance. I attempt to anticipate this invisible foe's movements. It missed with one claw, so he'll go for the other. I duck the other way and it misses me completely. Okay, now it will try the legs. I leap up and over him, feeling the movement of his leg attempt to sweep mine out from under me. It growls slightly in frustration, which humors me. At the very least, I'm annoying it.

I can't shoot from this direction because of all the soldiers standing out in the open. If I miss the creature, I'll hit one of them. Damn these idiots for getting in my way! If they weren't gathered around here being useless, I'd have this all wrapped up right now! There comes then a tiny voice from all the way in the back of my head, it says something that completely takes me off guard. "_Hollow, empty things, these humans be. If one should die, you'd be doing this world a favor_."

What? Did I just think that? In that millisecond, I nearly lose myself, and the monster manages to back me up into a tank. I twist my body at the last moment and it leaves two profound gashes in the camouflaged metal, shredding my Kevlar vest to ribbons and even grazing my ribs. Before it can go for the counter strike, I empty the rest of my clip at point blank range, which blows through it in several places, sending plumes of it's blood exploding out of its back as the bullets exit. Without giving it even a moment to recover, I punch the barrel of the now empty gun hard straight into one it's bullet wounds. It shrieks at me, an unholy sound, using both it's hands to shove itself out of my striking range. Not as strong as I expected, perhaps it's wounded worse than it looks.

It takes a step back and shimmers into full view. It's huge, even hunched over like that with a series of green, gooey holes in its midsection. The only weapons it has are two gauntlets with twin blades attached. There is a momentary lull where we simply glare at each other. It reaches up to it's mask, unplugs a few air tubes and removes it's mask with deliberate, practiced movements. Now I find myself gawking. I'm aware of it, but I cannot help myself. I've never seen one of these things without a mask before, how odd. It's skin is muddy brown with pale spots, it's eyes are large and round, alien and savage. Stranger still is it's mouth; four insect-like mandibles stretched in all directions with emotion. The heat of my rage dies down in the wake of cold curiosity.

I can read it much easier now, even without the powers I inherited from whichever unfortunate BPRD agent they cloned me from. This gesture is a last-ditch survival of the fittest death duel by fisticuffs. No holds barred. This is the way of it's people. This is what it was taught by it's elders to do to honor a worthy opponent. I'd be touched, but for the bomb attached to the wrist of it's left hand, which it plans to use when I best it. There's no if- this thing acknowledges it's about to die by my hand. There wouldn't be a moment's hesitation to blow me up right along with it. Despite everything, a part of me can't help but respect that.

It roars at me in determination and goes to swipe at me again; but there are no secrets between us now. In one fluid motion, I crouch down to avoid his swipe. I slide out the spear Mr. Yuzuki gave me from my thigh, hold it up to its chest and press the release. It extends and plunges right through its body, into where its heart would be if it were human. The spear extends so long, it actually bursts out through its back and gets stuck. Even though I've got it impaled, it still makes a clumsy, desperate swipe for me, so I use the spear to shove him back. The last bullet of my other gun punches right through its neck. It makes a sick gurgling sound and goes limp. It's too heavy for me to hold up so I let the thing's body hit the floor. Still, it writhes with a lingering, stubborn spark of life, attempting to reach for that wrist bomb. I slide a knife from my boot and plunge the blade right between it's cloudy orange eyes. It makes no sound as I withdraw the blade and stand over it in victory, but it's lower mandibles twitch soundlessly at me, as if to offer some final word in it's native tongue. There is a brief flash of gratitude as it finally dies.

I brave a glance at Red, who's now a raging ball of sapphire flame, fighting off two of them. They're both visible, burnt and bleeding, shooting at him with these strange laser cannons attached to their shoulders because they're afraid to get near him. One of them is already burnt to a cinder, lying dead a few feet away. I think that's the same one he eviscerated earlier. Two, plus that one, plus the telephone pole one, plus the one I just took down… that leaves one more, still invisible, hiding somewhere. That's the smart one, letting its impetuous kin tire us out so it can go in for the kill when we least expect it. That's fine, let it come; I'll be ready.

I recover my second gun and reload. I make my way towards the fray, systematically shooting out their shoulder cannons. These bullets are special; made just for me against things just like this. The shell explodes on impact, that's when the second explosion goes off, almost like I'd thrown a grenade. When I shoot one right through its metal facemask, the real fireworks begin. BWAM! Pieces of its face, skull and brain matter pepper the sidewalk. It can't even let out a scream. One of them pops out the two claws from its gauntlet and I expect it to come lunging at me the way the other one did. Instead, it points the hand at me.

"S'yuit-de ooooh-man." It growls distinct syllables, makes a fist and the blades come shooting out like bullets.

I try to weave to the side but I'm not quick enough. Both blades embed themselves into my left shoulder, and the sheer velocity of the projectiles send me sailing backwards onto my ass. The blades sink into the ground underneath me, pinning me where I lay. In my pain and disorientation, I do something stupid. I empty both chambers of my gun into the monster. Several soldiers behind me follow suit, riddling its entire body with lead. It finally falls down, and the remaining visible one is soon felled- rather torn limb from limb by an even angrier, flaming Red Eleven.

When the last one hits the pavement, a loud cheer erupts from the soldier spectators as the BPRD and military operatives drag away what's left of their bodies. The one I'd impaled is surrounded by people wearing full-body plastic suits to be carried away like the rest, and a strange pang of mournful regret fills my chest. Everybody's celebrating, and nobody knows about the sixth hunter. Red turns off his flame and runs over to me to see if I'm okay. EMS can't dislodge the blades manually, so they have to use a torch to eat through the alien metal. I remain tense and silent through the process. Mr. Yuzuki comes running with an extra pair of pants for Red, for which we're all grateful.

The entire ride home, people are celebrating, cheering and singing songs while I sulk in the back with my bandages and ominous gut feelings. I had tried to tell Red about the sixth Predator but drunk on his first real victory, he merely laughed and accused me of being paranoid. It would be very simple for that thing to sabotage the truck and make us all go careening into oncoming traffic, but it would rather wait, and watch where we go. We're leading it straight to the base. In a way, I'm glad. Maybe it will destroy all the other clones they have brewing before they become caged, miserable and lonely test tube abominations like me. Maybe it'll find a way to put Red down in his sleep. Maybe it will put me out of my misery as well so I can be at peace with my sister. Still, if I'm going to die tonight, there are a few things I must have resolved before I go.

When we park the truck, there are a bunch of guys in white coats that file in and grab me to help me out. "How bad is he?" One of them addresses Mr. Yuzuki.

"Nothing mortal, but still get him to Doc Gorbin, ASAP. God forbid there are more of those things, we can't afford to have him out of commission for too long."

"Mr. Yuzuki?" I get his attention as I pass.

"Yes, Adam?" He beams a proud smile at me, putting a hand on my good arm.

"When I'm all patched up, I would like for you to do me a big favor."

The smile slackens a bit with suspicion. "What's that?"

"I want to speak to Doctor Jake, the man who took care of me from my old compound."

His jaw drops, as though that were the last thing he was expecting to hear out of me. "I, sure, Adam. We have his number on record, I'm sure he'd be happy to hear from you."

I fake a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Yuzuki." He pats me on the arm once again, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

By the time Dr. Gorbin gets through patching me up, I'm aching all over and it feels as though I was just violated somehow. Instead of going back to my room, Mr. Yuzuki brings me into his office, which I've never been in before. He has me sit down next to the phone on his desk. He draws a breath to speak when his cell phone goes off. "Hang on, I'll only be a minute." He answers and leaves the room for a few moments.

Sprawled open on the desk within arm's reach is the agency's file on Dr. Jacob Harmann, Phd. He started his career as a behavioral psychologist, specializing in children; I didn't know that. From there, he expanded his field into molecular biology. He's also a widower, I didn't know that either. I spend a few moments memorizing his cell number. By the time Mr. Yuzuki comes back inside, everything is right where he left it and I'm rocking restlessly in my chair.

"Hey, sorry about that." He takes a good look at me. "You okay?"

"Gorbin is merciless." I grumble.

With a snicker, he takes a seat, leaving his cell on the desk. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I accidentally stapled my hand once, and he-"

"Can we call Doctor Jake now please?"

"Umm, sure." He ruffles through the pages and punches the digits into the office phone. Watching him do this helps me recall the numbers from their placement on the keypad. "So you were real close to Doctor Jake, huh?"

I keep my eyes cast downwards. "Yes."

"I guess I can understand wanting to speak to him after a near-death experience like that. He's probably the closest thing you've got to a parental figure." He shrugs. His tone is insulting, condescending and mocking. It makes me want to snap his neck like a dry twig. "It's ringing." He hands me the receiver and I eagerly place it next to my ear.

After six rings, it goes to voicemail. "Hello, the good doctor is out. If you don't know what to do by now, you shouldn't be allowed to operate a phone." And then a strange, artificial female voice comes on and tells me to press one to leave a message, or wait for the tone.

I wait a few moments, staring blankly at Mr. Yuzuki as the female voice explains about pressing pound afterwards for all these other options. I don't even know what that means. "Leave a message for him, he'll get it later." He smiles back at me. There's a distinctive beeping sound and I continue to stare at him. "It's okay, Adam, say something."

"To him?"

"Yeah, it's recording, he's going to hear what you say."

"Oh, okay. Well, uhh… Doctor Jake? It's… its Adam. I'm here… in Maine, and… I'm here. At the base, right now. It's 10:22 at night. And I asked to speak to you, and I still want to. So, um, you should pick up your phone next time, like… soon. Okay? I'll um, call again very soon." I nervously hang the phone back up and pull my hand back as though the phone were going to bite me.

That was the first time I've ever used a phone, and I don't think I like it. Though I must admit, hearing his voice again soothes me in a way I can't put into words.

After that, Mr. Yuzuki gets up to escort me back to my quarters, and I stealthily grab his cell phone right off the desk, stashing it into my arm sling. He asks me if there's anything else I want before I retire but I say no, that I just want to be left alone. He tells me what a great job I did today and that I deserve a peaceful night's sleep. He smiles at me as he locks the door to my prison. I put my good hand up against the door and listen to his footsteps get further down the hall and around the corner. I yank out the cell and quickly punch in Doctor Jake's numbers before I forget them. I listen but it's not ringing and I'm not sure why. I look at the keypad and wonder if the big red and green buttons have anything to do with calling? I press the big green button that says, "TALK". Miraculously, the call goes through. It rings, and I'm afraid he won't pick up again. I'm afraid I'll be caught with this. I'm afraid someone will be listening to our conversation, and Doctor Jake will get in trouble.

"Hello?" It's him- he picked up!

"Doctor Jake!" I whisper hoarsely because I'm so frightened that someone will hear me that I'm actually huddled in the corner behind my bed now.

"What? You need to speak up. Who is this?"

"Doctor Jake, it's me, Adam! I called before, I got a recording."

"Whoa, wait… did you say Adam?"

"Adam! It's Adam, you remember me! Please, Doctor Jake, I don't have much time, the sixth Predator will be coming to kill me tonight so I need to know something very important."

"Adam…from…" He gasps. "Adam! Oh my God, Adam! How are you even… whose phone is this?"

"My field supervisor's, I stole it. Please, Doctor, listen very closely to me."

"Did you just say you were a predator?"

"No, listen to me. Those aliens I fought, remember?"

"Yes… YES- I heard they were back in town but I didn't know they'd sent you to deal with them! Are you alright?"

"No. Doctor Jake, one survived. It followed us back here." I hear him gasp once again but keep talking so he can't interrupt me. I even brave speaking louder so my message gets through clearly through the static. "It's going to kill me tonight so I need to know something very important."

"My God, Adam, you have to alert people there, they can protect you!"

"They won't believe me, Doctor Jake, but I can sense it. I feel it, I know it's here and it's hungry. But it's okay because I… I don't want to live anymore."

"What? Adam, how can you say that!?"

"It's true!" I begin trembling as this awful truth has finally, fully dawned on me. It's always been something that clung to the back of my consciousness like humidity, and I never thought hearing myself say it out loud could hurt so much. Regardless, I can't stop until it's all out of me. "I'm sick of being their lapdog. I'm through killing for people who keep me locked in a cage and control every aspect of my life. I don't even get the same freedoms as Hellboy! I'm not even allowed to speak about him, let alone meet him; I'm like this agency's naughty little secret. I finally understand why the Reds keep killing themselves."

"Oh, Adam…please don't…"

"So fine! When the alien comes to kill me, I won't fight him. Death will be the closest thing I'll ever come to freedom!" And with those last words comes such tears that it leaves my body trembling, my lungs starved for air and my heart as void as my existence. He listens to me sob for a while, shushing me, telling me it'll be alright, and then he goes silent for a few moments. "I miss you, Doctor Jake."

"I miss you too. Tell me what to say, Adam. What can I say to you that will make you come to your senses?"

"I have all my senses, that's the problem. I know everything Margaret told me was a lie; my whole life is a lie. You know, the one thing that's always boggled my mind is this: If the Reds are clones of Hellboy, and I'm a clone as well, who am I a product of?"

"What?" He huffs breathlessly.

"Don't play stupid with me, Doctor. I know you're one of their bio-engineers, so just tell me who I'm a copy of. What is it, another one of your secret agents, also unaware of what their bosses are doing with his genes?"

"What? Gawd, no, Adam. Please don't ask me that."

"Why not? If you were in my place, wouldn't you want to know? I'm going to die tonight, Doctor Jake, but before I go, I need to know where I came from!"

"I- I- I can't tell you that!"

"Why not? Is it really that horrible? Whatever hateful, murderous instincts I inherited from him, I can assure you, I'm not the same person. I can fight them; I fight them off every day. And the dreams…. the dreams. I see a woman, my sister… I think she's my twin. Help me make sense of it, Doctor, please!"

He sighs deeply, sadly, and full of remorse. "You…. Of course you'd dream of her. You guys had this… bond. Please don't be angry with me, Adam. I never wanted you to get hurt. We kept you from Hellboy because we were afraid he'd take one look at you and freak out."

"Why, Doctor Jake? Please tell me why!" He sighs again, this time with resignation.

"His name was Prince Nuada Silverlance; he and his twin sister, Nuala died during a battle with Hellboy a few years ago."

"Nuada… yes, that's what she kept calling me in the dreams! But every time I'd wake up I'd start to forget."

"That's because of the chemicals they put in your food. You see, Prince Nuada was trying to commit genocide on the Human race so that his Faery Folk brethren could take over the world. The general was afraid you'd eventually become like him so they insisted on spiking your breakfast with something that would inhibit the right brain function after a night's sleep. It was meant to eliminate any residual memories or supernatural influence from your DNA's previous incarnation, just in case."

At this, I'm stricken dumb. "You… knew about this?"

He sighs again. "I'm ashamed of it, Adam, I really am. I didn't agree with them even making you. I told them the Fae nature is too unpredictable, too dangerous. There wasn't even much to work with, just the few blood droplets we found on Hellboy's coat and gun holster. It took us almost an entire year just to reconstruct Nuada's DNA and RNA coding into something workable. I didn't even think they could pull it off! But you have to understand, Adam, I had just lost my wife in a car accident… and I thought that by working on this cloning program, I could maybe one day…"

"What… what were you gonna do, Doctor, clone your wife? You're a pig. You're all pigs. If you really love her, then you shouldn't ever inflict upon her what I've been through. Let her stay dead, she's happier that way. Trust me!"

There's a moment of tense silence that passes between us. It sounds like he's about ready to cry as well. "Please forgive me, Adam. I am… truly sorry for what I did to you. Please, please don't hate me." My anger gives way to sorrow once again.

"I don't hate you. As sad as this sounds, you're the closest thing to a parent I've ever known." At this, his composure breaks, and we listen to each other sniffle for a few minutes.

"Please. please tell the others to protect you."

"I can't, I'm sorry, I have to go now."

"I'm calling Doctor Gorbin, he may not believe you but he'll listen to me!"

"Goodbye, Doctor Jake."

"NO! Adam, this is INSANE, DON'T DO THIS!"

"I love you." My whisper into the mouthpiece is drowned out by his hysterical screaming. I snap the phone closed like I've seen Mr. Yuzuki do a hundred times. There follows a moment of silence, clarity, and closure.

The alien is very close now; so close I can hear a…sizzling? I turn my head towards the sound and see a very large crater being melted away in the thick metallic door. It might have been there for a while now but I've been too busy with my phone call to notice. The hole is more than large enough for the creature to step through. I'm sure it has, but is choosing to remain invisible. I rest Mr. Yuzuki's cell on the bed and stand to face it. As eager as I am to die, this still frightens the hell out of me. It's alright though, because I'm ready.

I step out into the middle of the room, raise my good arm in welcome and drop to my knees. "I won't fight you anymore. You've come to avenge your fallen, and I will allow you that honor. All I ask is that you make it quick."

It responds with a low, rolling clicking noise that I've never heard before. There's a mechanical sound as it uncloaks itself. It towers over me with thick, metallic armor adorned with the small skulls of what look to be several different races. I don't feel any anger from it. It dawns on me that these creatures are hunters, not avengers. It appears puzzled that I'm not putting up a fight. I look up at the slanted eyeholes of his mask, studying the layers of black dreadlocks that look more like worms cascading past it's muscled, broad shoulders.

"I am a fake person, cooked up from a test tube. These bastards made me. They manufactured me like a block of tofu to fight for them. I want you to put me out of my misery now. Can you even understand what I'm saying?"

To my surprise, it nods its head at me.

"Then kill me. That's what you came here for, isn't it?"

It makes that clicking sound again. If I didn't know better, I'd think that's its version of a belly laugh. It shakes its head at me in denial. No? It didn't come here to kill me?

"Then why did you come? What the hell do you want?"

It extends a gauntleted, clawed hand to point down at me, right at my chest.

"Me? You want me? I- I don't understand."

I watch his other hand pull one of the reverse-engineered extending spears from his belt. Alright, that means he's been going over this place to take back his technology, that makes sense. Wait, he's been here a while. Does that mean he paid a visit to Red Eleven first, or is that where he's planning to go next? I open my mouth to speak, but before I can utter a syllable, he cocks the butt of the spear back and whacks me right in the temple.

The last thing I hear is the sound my own body makes hitting my prison floor.


End file.
